


I'm Lembas Bread and You're Poo

by thevikingqueen



Category: J.R.R. Tolkien - Fandom, Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Hobbit, lotr - Fandom
Genre: Archery, Family, Father and Son, lembas bread, silly fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevikingqueen/pseuds/thevikingqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and his father do not have the best relationship, but Legolas is just sassy enough to make it work out at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Lembas Bread and You're Poo

**Author's Note:**

> This came about from a small conversation with Gyzym of Tumblr. A bit of a crack fic, really. Enjoy!

In the east, there was Taur-nu-Fuin - Or Mirkwood in the commontongue - nestled between Ered Mithrin and Gondor. The dense woods of Mirkwood was the home of some of the most noble of wood-elves.

This included Thranduil, son of Oropher. Thranduil, known as the Elvenking led the wood-elves of Northern Mirkwood for more than three thousand years. The Sindarin king had a son, Legolas Greenleaf. 

Legolas was young when this story began. Barely a toddler, really. His relationship with his noble father had always been slightly strained. Thranduil looked down on the young elf, hardly acknowledging his talent with bows or how keen he was.

Thus, begins the heart of this tale.

Legolas stood proudly in the archery range. He may have been young, but not young enough to not be able to hold a bow and arrow. It was one of the things he was the most proud of - he was a good shot. Better than some of the older elves, even. Father did not enjoy it so much. He would simply blink at his young son’s shots, unimpressed and unwilling to give praise.

It was not so much that Thranduil was not proud of his son. He really, truly was. He just never felt it right to praise him. He was a prince. He did not need the praise. Nor was he due any extra praise for simply being his son. Until Thranduil was truly impressed by his princely son, he would not give him what he considered undue and undeserved praise.

Legolas’ long, golden locks dripped from his head like a waterfall, flowing and silken. He pulled back the string of his bow, taking a mere moment to aim. Not a moment later, his released. A loud thwack rang through the forest. The arrow had lodged into the targeted haystack, though not in completely in the center.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side in a gesture of innocent criticism.

“Legolas,” Thranduil began, turning towards the bullseye of a haystack.

Legolas quickly jumped to his own defense, leaning towards his father and staring at him sharply.

“Father, I’m going to let you finish but I am a good archer and I am lembas bread and you’re poo. Whatever you have to say with bounce from me and stick to you!”

Thranduil slowly cracked a smile a his son, turning to leave, but not before stick his hand out for his son to take.

“You’re a very good archer, Legolas,” Thranduil commented. His son beamed back, quickly running to his father and grasping his hand.


End file.
